


beautiful tragic

by twotimesinthesamenight



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Royalty, if i have to keep the fandom for these two alive by myself i WILL, if you're here for the swissaus you're gonna be dissapointed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-29 14:25:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16745698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twotimesinthesamenight/pseuds/twotimesinthesamenight
Summary: Elizaveta opens her mouth, no doubt to try and convince Roderich of the same thing that Vash did, though obviously for her own reasons, but before she speaks another voice, carrying so far that it can’t be coming from anywhere but the cell farthest down the rows, calls out, “Right here, prinzessin,” and Roderich almost shudders as the scent he’s been looking for finally hits him.It’s a scent not that different from Vash’s, truthfully, but there’s the sweet tang of blood under it, and unlike Vash, Gilbert’s scent spreads into the cell block in seconds.The way it hits Roderich, in wave after wave of intoxicating musk, confirms his suspicions: Gilbert is in rut.





	beautiful tragic

**Author's Note:**

> listen to [this](https://youtu.be/EsfyDR6TBP8) for atmosphere

“Roderich,” Vash says, quietly, pleadingly, and he smells like desperation. 

Roderich rises from his throne abruptly, feeling suddenly nauseous at the scent permeating the room. He looks at Vash, kneeling at the side of the throne, hands gripping the armrest tightly. His blond hair falls on either side of his face, hiding it from Roderich’s view.

He leans forward and brushes aside the curtain hair closest to him, murmuring, “You know I must, dearest,” as his fingertips brush over the scent gland behind Vash’s ear. 

Vash nods once, stiffly, and for just a moment the silence is like a weight, holding Roderich in place with the heady Alpha scent until Vash knocks Roderich’s hand aside and hisses, “Make it quick and quiet.” Roderich nods, though Vash won’t see it as he’s storming out of the room, the ashy scent of heartache trailing behind him.

Roderich pulls his wrist to himself, and he can’t help but notice how overwhelmingly he smells of Vash, his mate, his husband, the prince consort. 

It makes him feel a bit ill, again, and that in and of itself compounds the feeling harshly, so Roderich wipes his wrist on his jacket before shrugging it off and placing it by the throne. He doesn’t bother to fold it. 

Roderich inhales, both in an effort to assess how much he smells like Vash and to calm himself. Not too much, he decides for the former, though he struggles with the latter. He can feel the staccato beat of his heart as his mind drifts, and with that he starts for the dungeon. 

The entrance to the dungeon is in a secluded corner of the castle, a ways back where no one without the knowledge would find it. Roderich navigates to it easily, despite his tendency to get lost. The castle has been his home for his entire life, after all. 

The wooden door creaks open, revealing a damp, but well light stone corridor. On one side a portable lantern is hung, already lit, and Roderich takes it. 

The dungeon isn’t a nice place, with the cold that seeps its way into your very bones after long enough, but it’s decently clean for a prison and Roderich has always thought of it as a small mercy to anyone who resides there. He’s proud of that, proud of any kindness he can dispense unlike some of the nearby kingdoms that he often wars with. 

One particular example jumps to mind, though Roderich isn’t sure if he’s exactly entitled to comment on how well Gilbert treats prisoners considering the… circumstances under which Roderich spent time in the Beilschmidt castle. 

~

When he reaches the cells, Roderich is shocked to find almost all of them empty. A few, no more than three or four prisoners total, are in the cells closest to a pair of uniformed guards that stand on either side of doorway. When Roderich comes close enough to speak with them, the one on the left steps forward immediately, and he can see that it’s Elizaveta, Captain of the Guards. 

“Roderich!” she hums, “It’s good to see you!” She takes to fussing over him, brushing non-existent dirt off his clothes and chattering away as Roderich searches for another occupied cell. 

When that fails, and subsequently his noise as well, he waits a few seconds before cutting Elizaveta’s idle chatter. “Where is he? I heard that Gilbert was captured.” The again goes unsaid, implied so heavily Roderich can almost taste it, in the same way he can almost taste the hesitation that immediately rolls off Elizaveta in waves of scent. 

Elizaveta opens her mouth, no doubt to try and convince Roderich of the same thing that Vash did, though obviously for her own reasons, but before she speaks another voice, carrying so far that it can’t be coming from anywhere but the cell farthest down the rows, calls out, “Right here, prinzessin,” and Roderich almost shudders as the scent he’s been looking for finally hits him. 

It’s a scent not that different from Vash’s, truthfully, but there’s the sweet tang of blood under it, and unlike Vash, Gilbert’s scent spreads into the cell block in seconds. 

The way it hits Roderich, in wave after wave of intoxicating musk, confirms his suspicions: Gilbert is in rut. 

It’s not uncommon that when Gilbert goes and gets himself captured by Roderich’s army, he’s close to or in rut. Not only does the Alpha get easily fired up and irrational enough to carry out some of his worse plans, he knows there’s a very willing queen to help him through it. Honestly, Roderich can’t blame him for the whole charade, God knows he’d do the same were their positions reversed. 

“It’s your lucky day,” Roderich says as he sidesteps an open-mouthed Elizaveta. “Due to unusual circumstances you’ll be sent promptly back to your kingdom, accompanied by an armed guard. Elizaveta,” Roderich turns back to the Beta, whose green irises have been almost swallowed by the black of her pupils. “See to it that my order is carried out. Now.” 

Within seconds, the cells are unlocked and the prisoners are being led away, to collect their possessions and be returned to whomever they belong; possibly Ludwig, probably Ivan. 

Roderich, on the other hand, turns back towards the occupied cell at the end of the hall, tucking his hands behind his back as he approaches. He schools his face into what he can only hope is a calm and collected mask, though he can feel himself slicking already and somewhere in the back of his mind he hopes he’s able to salvage this outfit at the end of this. 

The far cell is lit more dimly than the rest, the only torch tucked into an alcove designed as inaccessible to restrained prisoners- and, restrained, that’s a word for Gilbert right now. 

There are shackles, two of them, iron, one fitted neatly around each of Gilbert’s ankles and then chained closely to the wall furthest from the bars. All in all the Alpha has about 3 feet of leeway. Evidently, he put up a fight this time, because his wrists are also encircled with metal, but these cuffs run the length of his forearms and have three much shorter links connecting them. Finally, he’s been muzzled; a thick leather strap wraps around his head, stretching to cup his jaw before connecting to a metal piece that, while muffling the words, does little to prevent Gilbert from actually speaking. 

The moment Roderich steps close enough for his own scent to reach Gilbert, he sees Gilbert’s red eyes glow dimly, just for a moment, and the muzzle doesn’t entirely hide the wolfish smirk that plasters itself across his face. 

“The little prince graces me with his presence. You’re feeling guilty about your marriage, this time?” Gilbert’s voice is somewhat gravelly. Roderich glowers as he searches for the cell keys, ignoring the continued taunts from behind him as he retreats to the entrance of the cell block. 

“Can’t resist me, can you prinzessin? No one will ever compare to an Alpha like me, ‘specially not Vash, not after how good I’ve fucked you-”

“Shut up,” Roderich hisses as he fumbles with the lock. His hands are shaking ever so slightly, though he’s not sure if it’s the insults being thrown at Vash or arousal. Both, maybe, considering the wet state of his breeches. 

The door clanks open, smashing against the bars of another cell, but neither notice. Roderich holds onto the keys, pausing in the archway to consider for a moment before he steps over one of Gilbert’s outstretched legs to place them bedsides the torch in the alcove. 

Not that Roderich really lacks that much trust in Gilbert, not when he’s going to get what he wants, but appearances must be made and all that. When he turns back to assess the state Gilbert is in, he starts unbuttoning his vest. 

Gilbert has yet to start his brand of combination spousal insults-dirty talk, so Roderich fills the silence by telling him, “You are infuriating.” His undone vest is shucked off to the floor, where it will no doubt gather dirt, though Roderich barely notes this as he bends down to start removing his boots. 

“How many times does this make? Twenty? Thirty? How many more times, Gilbert, until you accept this reality?” The boots join the vest, along with the stockings that Roderich slips down from under the knee-length breeches, which are tented and damp at the crotch. 

“As many times as it takes for you to stop coming, prinzessin,” Gilbert replies, eyes hungrily drinking Roderich in. 

With this the rest of Roderich’s rapidly dwindling resolve evaporates, and he finds himself crouched between Gilbert’s legs, fiddling with the buttons of his shirt, pushing it down his shoulders until it rests securely just above his elbows, effectively pulling his arms back and out of Roderich’s way. 

Roderich meets Gilbert’s stare, which is starting to glaze over with the heat of arousal. There’s a thin ring of red surrounding a void of black- though Roderich is sure he’s not better off. 

“Shhh,” Roderich hums, coaxing Gilbert into leaning down far enough for him to reach the buckle of the muzzle. It takes only a moment for Roderich to blindly undo the clasp, letting the wordless noises that pour from his throat soothe Gilbert, who’s beginning to whine in desperation. 

His scent deepens even more, sticking to Roderich’s skin even without any skin to skin contact. Roderich stops a whine from tearing out of his own throat, in an attempt to maintain his cool demeanor. 

“C’mon little master, I know you’re just as desperate as I am,” Gilbert taunts as Roderich tosses the muzzle aside, but he’s met with only another disapproving look. 

“No one is desperate but you,” Roderich reminds him calmly, coolly, like he isn’t just as hard and can’t feel his hole clenching around nothing. 

Always one for romance, Roderich readjusts his balance so he can lean down and kiss Gilbert, just a light brush of lips as Roderich lets one knee drop in order to keep his balance. 

When he surges forward again, Gilbert wraps his own leg around the one that’s still bent, pulling himself forward at just the right angle to start rubbing himself against Roderich’s thigh, to which the omega startles slightly but doesn’t pull away from the kiss. 

A hand comes up to tangle in Gilbert’s hand, short and soft, despite what one would assume, and just a moment later Roderich uses his grip to pull Gilbert’s head back, exposing his neck while also press his knee against Gilbert’s erection harder. The simultaneous sensations achieve exactly what he’d hoped for: Gilbert moans at the friction, barely noticing as Roderich starts lapping at the hollow of his throat, pulling more of his scent from the gland there. 

Roderich lets Gilbert rut against him for a few minutes, every so often brushing teeth over the skin of his neck, until Roderich’s had enough and bites down sharply. It’s just enough to hurt, though there’s no blood, and Gilbert hisses lightly. 

“You speak of desperation,” Roderich reminds him lightly, letting the words hover between them without a hint of teasing in his voice. The words themselves are enough of a taunt, hitting exactly the right buttons that will get Gilbert frustrated enough to beg. 

Releasing his grip of Gilbert’s hair, Roderich rises and returns to the pile of clothes so he can add his shirt, before it’s ruined. No use in prolonging the inevitable and risking it, he supposes. From his spot on the floor, Gilbert watches again, gaze still predatory and hungry. 

He laughs lowly as Roderich reaches the last button and shrugs the shirt off his shoulders, pausing like a deer caught in the headlights. “I can smell how wet you are from here, little master.” 

Even though it’s true, even though it’s far from the first time they’ve done this, even though Roderich is far from a rosy-cheeked virgin, he blushes slightly at the words. He supposes it’s the situation, and not the person. The guards could have rotated shift by now, and maybe they’re standing at the end of the cell block listening to the filth Gilbert is spouting. 

Roderich can see that isn’t true, and he knows very well that it’s Gilbert’s words that make him color like a schoolboy. 

Face still warm, Roderich drops the shirt to the pile and returns to between Gilbert’s legs, this time using his mobility to press Gilbert back until he’s leaning against the stone wall, and then he takes his place on Gilbert’s thigh. The position gives him a few precious inches of height that make him taller, for once. 

It also allows him to subtly rut against Gilbert’s hip as he kisses him again, drawing breathless gasps and moans from the Alpha under him with his teeth and tongue. He makes sure his leg is out of reach for Gilbert to reciprocally rub up against.

As they kiss Roderich lets his hands wander, first settling on Gilbert’s waist and then running up his sides, teasing at the muscle of his torso until they reach his shoulders, as which point Roderich pulls back and joins his hands behind Gilbert’s head. 

“Are you ready to beg yet?” the Omega asks coyly, head tipped slightly back and to the side. It’s a move that he knows releases his scent and plays into Gilbert’s need for submission in this moment. 

The Alpha snorts, in Roderich’s opinion very inelegantly, and asks, “You really think some teenage dry humping is gonna get me to beg?” As he speaks Gilbert grabs one of Roderich’s thighs and tugs it forward until Roderich is forced to move with him. The leg gets tucked behind Gilbert, wedged between him and the wall, and Roderich has to readjust entirely to avoid falling over. 

He ends up hovering over Gilbert’s cock, the knee on the other side of Gilbert’s thigh the only thing preventing him from sitting down directly in the Alpha’s lap. 

He can still feel the heat of it under him, practically lined up with his hole, and if it weren’t for layers of fabric separating them Roderich would sink down right now. Instead, as his breath hitches, he takes a moment to collect himself and take control of his leg back, ending up with a leg on either side of Gilbert’s, still hovering deliciously over him. 

“Is that right, little master?” Gilbert says, and even though he’s looking up he might as well be watching Roderich suck him off for the expression on his face. 

“God, do you ever shut up,” Roderich murmurs, leaning forward and biting down at the gland behind Gilbert’s ear. Gilbert tenses immediately, instinctively turning his head to give Roderich better access at the same time that Roderich finally relaxes into Gilbert’s lap and begins to grind against him. 

Gilbert whines, trying to grasp at Roderich with his restrained hands while his legs bend and slide Roderich further into his lap. His breath catches again as Roderich starts lapping at the mark he’s left, just starting to color, and Roderich smirks into his skin, moving down Gilbert’s neck to his shoulder where he leaves a gentle, non-marking bite. 

He knows his mark wouldn’t take anyway, because he’s an Omega and it wouldn’t stay without him being claimed first. The slight humiliation of it, though, of being marked by an Omega, makes Gilbert squirm underneath him, even though it’s just the two of them. 

Roderich laps at this mark, too, twisting his fingers into Gilbert’s hair to tug it again, and suddenly he feels hands wrapping around his waist before Gilbert lets, “Oh fuck, please,” slip off his tongue and Roderich pulls away. 

“Was that so hard?” he asks, looking down at Gilbert over the top of his fogged glasses. Gilbert just stares at him with glassy, glowing eyes, mouth hanging open as he pants lightly. “Shh, shh, it’s alright now. I just need one.. moment..”

Carefully Roderich extracts himself, shedding his breeches and throwing in the vague direction of the rest of the pile. Dimly he applauds himself for getting all of it off, which happens less often that he’d like. 

On the floor, Gilbert writhes and fidgets desperately with buttons of his own pants. Roderich quickly brushes his hands aside and undoes the button fluidly, and then tugs the pants down over Gilbert’s ass. 

The scent hits him, for a third time, along with the visual of Gilbert’s cock springing free, knot about to swell at any moment at the base. Gilbert’s legs are restrained further by the breeches, tight around his thighs, and he whines pitifully as Roderich stands up so he can seat himself properly. 

He finds a good balance, his own cock sliding against Gilbert’s as he slides two fingers into his hole to make sure he’s ready. Gilbert is bent forward, nuzzling at Roderich’s shoulder and nipping lightly. As soon as he’s sure he’s ready, Roderich pulls his fingers out and clasps a hand over his shoulder. 

“Do I need to get the muzzle again?” Roderich asks, letting the threat seep into his voice. He doesn’t move until Gilbert shakes his head no, though he’s still biting at Roderich’s skin so it’s not altogether convincing. 

Hand still on his shoulder, Roderich carefully lifts up so he can position himself to finally, finally sink down. Gilbert moans as Roderich’s hand wraps around his cock, lowering himself until he’s basically sitting on it, and then he stops.  
Gilbert already looks like a wreck; hair sweaty and ruffled, eyes glassy and adoring as they stare up at Roderich. The Omega assesses the situation, deciding if he trusts Gilbert not to overwrite Vash’s mark. 

He decides he doesn’t, and so he lifts himself up again and releases Gilbert, searching for the muzzle. Gilbert barely notices, though he does whine at the loss of contact once Roderich sees it and go to retrieve it. 

The leather wraps easily around the Alpha’s jaw, and Roderich quickly buckle it in the back. “There,” he murmurs, settling back into Gilbert’s lap and lining them up again. This time, Gilbert meets his gaze and whines like a child, begging so obviously that Roderich has to muffle a laugh as he does finally let Gilbert fill him. 

The stretch is almost unnoticeable, covered by the wet slide of skin and the arousal that pools instantly in Roderich’s stomach. He goes slowly, taking Gilbert in inch by inch until he can feel the slight swell of his knot pressing against his hole. Gilbert’s hands find his waist against, gripping slightly like he’s trying to pull Roderich onto his cock, but Roderich smacks one of his hands and continues, pausing when he feels the knot before rising up again, and then sinking down. 

Each time he bottoms out the knot is a bit bigger, pressing in just a little more until Roderich can tell that Gilbert is about to come, from the way his breathing is so erratic to how he’s desperately canting his hips up to try and slide his knot it. 

Tipping his head back as he bottoms out the last time, Roderich hums a soft, “Ohhh, that’s it.” He finally manages to adjust to an angle that gets Gilbert’s cock brushing against his prostate, and he bounces just a few inches before he pushes down enough for the knot to finally push past his hole. 

Gilbert comes the second his knot is in, swelling and locking them together as hot cum fills Roderich. Roderich comes just a moment later, when he wraps a hand around his own cock. It takes one stroke before he comes, clenching around the knot inside him and splattering his own come on Gilbert, whose knot pulses in response. 

They’re both quiet for a few minutes, riding out the most sensitive part of the knotting until Roderich can move without hurting too much. He’s still tied to Gilbert, who’s turned drowsy, but the position is relatively comfortable for Roderich, so in the end it’s alright. 

While he waits for the knot to go down, Roderich watches Gilbert doze. He brushes a hand through unruly hair, and tucks a few strands behind one ear. Gilbert twitches in his hazy state at that, glands still clearly sensitive, but he doesn’t seem to wake up fully. 

After a few more minutes Roderich, too, is tired, and so he tucks his chin over Gilbert’s shoulder and lets his eyes shut. “Just a few minutes,” he mutters. 

~

When he wakes up, the first thing Roderich notices is that Gilbert’s knot has gone down, and he feels empty. It’s not entirely an unusual feeling, but it is disconcerting in who it regards. The second thing he notices is that he’s asleep on Gilbert’s chest, which is rising and falling with enough regularity for Roderich to be sure he’s sleeping. The third thing he notices is the cum, his own cum, tacky on Gilbert’s stomach and on Roderich’s hip where he’d been leaning. 

All in all, he thinks they’ve had worst nights. “Gil,” Roderich says softly, peeling himself off the Alpha and shaking his shoulder lightly.

Gilbert blinks several times, and then opens his mouth to lick dry lips. He smirks as he surveys the cell and lands on Roderich getting dressed. “Thanks, prinzessin, you’re not a bad lay,” he says around a smirk. Roderich scowls, but he does return to redress Gilbert as well. 

When he’s done, he collects the keys from the alcove and takes one last moment to readjust himself before he leaves the cell. He locks the door, and quietly tells Gilbert, “I’ll send Elizaveta to clean you up and escort you home.” 

He turns and walks quickly away, trying not to listen to Gilbert as he leaves. He still hears him, hears the snarky thank you, the genuine thank you when Gilbert thinks he’s out of hearing range, and the mournful laugh that follows it all. This is their pattern, their normal, and Roderich doesn’t think he’s ready to break that. 

In the same clothes he was wearing yesterday? Earlier today? He isn’t sure how long they slept, Roderich goes to his personal room, the one that he sleeps in every night. It’s on the same floor as Vash’s, as well as the bedroom they share for heats and ruts, but Roderich has always desired privacy and the personal bedrooms had worked so far. 

He doesn’t bother to draw a bath, that will be done in the morning when a servant wakes him up, but he does splash himself off in the dish on his nightstand. A towel wipes away the dried cum still on his skin, and finally Roderich takes a bottle of his strongest perfume and looks himself over in the mirror. 

He traces his own nude figure, seeing the few marks Gilbert managed to leave, and spreads generous amounts of the perfume over his skin to cover Gilbert’s scent. 

When he’s confident he smells mostly like himself again, Roderich dresses in more traditional Omegan sleeping garments than usual, the kind that leave him easily accessible to his Alpha. He floats down the hallway, knocks on Vash’s door, and demurely refuses eye contact as he’s accompanied to their shared bedroom.

**Author's Note:**

> i wasn't going to post this under my user but what the fuck you only live once  
> catch me on twitter @aphchaosqueer and my writing tumblr @twotimesinthesamenight even though i'm not really on tumblr anymore lol


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